


As They Should

by drvology



Category: Batman (Unspecified canon), Batman: The Animated Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-10
Updated: 2011-04-10
Packaged: 2017-10-17 19:58:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/180654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drvology/pseuds/drvology
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bruce kisses Dick, but not remotely like all the so many times before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As They Should

**Author's Note:**

> B:TAS is my favorite Batverse incarnation; it's become my default setting when imagining the characters &c. That established, I think the fic I write can be aptly labeled 'canon & time nonspecific.'  
> → Written in an hour for 60_minute_fics challenge group @ LJ || 072806 Prompt #2 _Family Reunion -- Doesn't matter if you get the gang together at the traditional summer picnic, or gather up the clan for a wedding or a funeral. Just make sure that you give us some kind of 'family togetherness' in your fic. It's all up to you whether or not it's a pleasant experience for everyone involved._

He remembers the first time it was like this--when things bigger and more terrible than butterflies cut-fluttered in his gut--when they'd been _them_ in front of everyone else.

He remembers wanting to bolt--cut and run--retreat upstairs then come back in five minutes pretending it hadn't happened.

He remembers believing no one would question it. Not on his behalf not in spite of him. Because no one would dare, not because they approved.

It's crazy his remembrance is so vivid, so hazy, so far in the distance. It's crazy that it all happened last night.

Dick has no idea what sparked it. They'd eaten dinner--the time when they all came back together and reconnected and could just be, no capes or cowls or facades. They'd sat in the kitchen with Alfred, two on each side of the countertop bar, Bruce next to Dick, Tim next to Babs. He'd been starving--nothing unusual. He and Bruce had fucked fast and urgent beforehand- nothing unusual. They'd all talked--also normal--Tim had picked on Dick and Dick picked on Babs and Babs picked on Tim. Dick mentioned crime sprees and Tim talked crime detective comics and Babs yammered on and on about politics this and fashion that. Bruce answered what he was asked, said nothing more, small easy smile almost hidden on his face. Alfred had looked on, shepherded them through the meal.

They'd retreated to the study. Tim had homework- Babs had glossy magazines- he'd had case notes- Bruce had calls to make- and Alfred had tea.

Dick had sat there, surrounded, not able to concentrate on anything but them. Being with them, watching, listening.

Alfred, caring, stable company, the only constant this lot had ever known. Tim and Babs' questions and comments and exclamations about algebra being worthless and no bra being worth sixty-five dollars. Bruce's mouth moving, lips and tongue and lips again, crinkles around his eyes, phone engulfed in his hand.

Content. Contentment. Two words, simple and similar, so true.

He remembers sighing, remembers Bruce catching him do it. Then Bruce had smiled and hung up the phone, eyes intent on Dick's lips and the empty expanse of couch next to Dick's tucked-under legs.

He remembers sighing again.

Then Bruce had been there, perfect weight and pressure at his side, and while Dick had thought _maybe too close just a bit too close_ he'd turned, opened his mouth to say hi.

Bruce had kissed all sound from his breath.

Dick had been shocked beyond speechless, for once able to blame more than the powerful sway Bruce's heat and scent and lips had over his senses.

Then Bruce's arm had come around him, tugged, nestled him in. A book had been produced from nowhere and Bruce had hummed once, low, held Dick and murmured _Pi times the radius squared_.

Tim had looked at them, face scrunched up, then he'd nodded _Oh, right!_ whuffed on a laugh.

Apparently the face scrunching had nothing to do with the BruceDick liplock and the afterward BruceDick snuggle.

Dick had thought stupidly-- _the area of a circle_.

Babs had stopped reading, page-turn stilled midway. Her head had been tilted and her eyes were narrow and Dick had been able to discern jealousy and resignation and _well okay then_ amid the so many more glittering intangibles.

Alfred had poured another cup of tea.

That had been when the juiced-up butterflies arrived. When his heart had hammered his head and fevered his brain and his mind had been delirious with a scatter-scramble of words and a whelm of love and not-quite-panic:

_Kissed me! Kissed me. Kissed. Me._

_But here- we're here- all of us- right here!_

_What--kiss and now and here--even if we just quick-fucked within an inch of our lives like we couldn't get enough--and geeze can we I don't know--then came down to dinner and acted as if we just hadn't screwed our brains out and it was all perfectly normal--when really that_ is _what's perfectly normal for us--doesn't mean this is where we do this--kiss--here._

_Oooooh god... Alfred. Bruce's tongue in my mouth and Alfred! Right there! I bet he even freaking saw!_

_Babs and her Bruce thing. Babs and the thing we don't have--never really had--Babs and talking about bras and holy shit, Bruce._

_Tim is never gonna let me live this down._

_Kissed- me._

Dick remembers Bruce kissing his temple. He remembers Bruce whispering _it's not like they didn't already know_. Yeah, probably; also probably should have really annoyed Dick, but he had been beyond it, right then. He remembers Bruce's hand, warm and sure and unafraid, wrapped around his arm.

After the killer butterflies had settled it'd returned to him--surrounded. Being with them, just as moments before, watching, listening. Alfred, casual and calm approval as he'd sipped his tea and watched the fire lick the cavern of bricks. Tim and Babs' smirks and glances and outright grins; Tim and Babs' questions and uncertainties and quiet acceptance. Bruce's mouth moving, lips and tongue and lips again on his hair and forehead and cheek, Dick engulfed in his arms.

They'd all gone to bed--another _like usual_. Tim's one-man-band noise of toilet seat bangs and teethbrushing and water left running while tearing around half-dressed in his pajamas. Babs in a guest room because it was late and the night had been long, on patrol, at home. Bruce had told her as always she was invited, welcome to stay. Alfred in the kitchen, just a few more things to tidy up.

Bruce had walked Dick to their room, shut the door behind them after a grin and a cuff answering Tim's affectionate good night. Nothing like usual.

He remembers lying awake until almost dawn, cheek on the warmth of Bruce's skin, heartbeat strong under his ear. He remembers his stagger of disbelief that everyone knew and the world kept on spinning and the sun was rising to wake them tomorrow. He remembers the giddy heat in his belly--not arousal, not fear, just _at last_.

It's after dinner, a day later, and they've eaten in the kitchen again. Alfred had made something simple and they are all exhausted; another long night even longer, because sometimes that's how it goes.

Alfred is sitting next to the fire, teapot empty, a book in his lap that he isn't reading.

Babs is snoring softly, sprawled wide on the floor, drooling on her magazine.

Bruce is helping Tim sort out the quadratic formula.

Dick is lying down, head in Bruce's lap, legs curled up. Bruce rubs slow circles against his back and Dick is falling asleep too.

The butterflies are gone. Even through today they all maneuvered around one another and held their routines and Tim asked a few laughingly inappropriate questions and a few heartbreakingly sincere ones. Babs had been okay at breakfast, gone off without a flounce or an arched brow for her day, was still working through this and working on accepting it and that was okay, too. Alfred--Alfred was Alfred.

Bruce had kissed Dick once in front of the others, next to the sink when they'd been pouring cooled coffee from their cups. Short, sweet, no wordy declaration, no willing compromise.

Indeed the world and time and the sun all did their things as they always had and just as they should. The moon is out, high over the waves, sparkle-dance shine in reflection. Even the stars are there--further proof Dick hasn't slipped down the rabbit hole.

Dick sighs and cuddles closer. Bruce chuckles, murmurs soft that he can fall asleep it's okay. Tim grins at him and Dick's lids are heavy; Babs snuffles, rolls onto her side. Alfred sets the book down and stretches his legs to warm his feet closer to the fire. Bruce's hand is now rhythmic in his hair, rasp and swish again and again.

The fire pops and cracks and Dick smiles. Content. Contentment. Two words, simple and similar, so true.


End file.
